Faithful
by Ebolafan
Summary: As darkness descends can faith hold true?
1. Chapter 1

_I still remember the day I died. _

_The mist swirled around the windows like the cotton fluff sold on every corner of the Brighton beachfront. Thick, yet glowing with an inner radiance, it was an unearthly shroud for my last day on earth as Hermione Jane Granger._

_I don't blame Pansy; she couldn't have known who was waiting in the darkness with Draco. He'd begged and pleaded for us to unbar the doors. Several of the students in our year were vehemently against allowing him in. A first-year ran to bring Professor McGonagall to the East entrance hall. Pansy stood alone amongst the older students, calling out shrilly to Draco and arguing that he would die if left outside in the mist._

_Arriving in a flurry of tartan and evergreen, McGonagall was surrounded by all of us talking at once. She held up her hand for silence and walked to the pair of wooden doors separating us from the terror that lurked beyond the castle walls. She leaned against the great door and called out to the boy on the other side. When he heard her voice, Draco began crying and pounding on the door, promising anything if only we would let him in. I felt sick to my stomach; what horrors had Draco seen to change him from the proud pure-blood elitist who flaunted his position within Voldemort's followers to the scared boy he sounded like now? _

"_Please! Please, Professor! I-I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! Please, for my life, please let me in!" _

_McGonagall turned away, leaning back against the doors now, her expression grim, unshed tears wavering in her eyes, whether for the boy or in sadness for what he had become, I couldn't tell. Pansy, perhaps reading the finality in the professor's expression, shrieked, "No!" _

_Several of the girls started to pull her gently away, but she broke free and ran to the doors just as McGonagall replied to the hysterical boy, "Go back to your own kind for protection; there's nothing for you here." _

_Pansy threw herself against the door, beating her fists against it, in counterpoint to Draco's frensied pounding. "Draco! Draco!" she sobbed. _

"_Return to your dormitory, Miss Parkinson," McGonagall said sharply. We all stood by in silence, watching McGonagall walk away, leaving Pansy standing beside the doors crying, wrapping her arms around herself as if to deny everything that had taken place these last weeks since the war had broken out and we'd been barricaded within Hogwarts Castle. Even the pounding from outside had ceased. Professor McGonagall's mistake—_our_ mistake—was to believe that Pansy's anger had been quelled by defeat. We should have known better. Before a warning could be shouted, Pansy had raised the brace on one of the doors and thrown her weight into pulling it open, screaming Draco's name. _

_In a few seconds, we all surged forward en mass, pulling the hysterical girl out of the way and slamming our bodies against the door to force it shut. _

_We almost made it. _

_A strong shove from the other side sent me falling backward onto the flagstones. Many black clad arms were now visible through the gap, pushing with preternatural strength. It was no use. The doors flew open, and we scattered like linchpins. In strode a triumphant Draco Malfoy, the wet trails on his cheeks already drying as he grinned maniacally, yelling back into the throng of silver-masked men pouring into the entryway, "My Lord! We have done it!" _

_Some of the students ran; the rest of us were confined to the hall, made to kneel as we were relieved of our wands—not that having a wand was all that useful anymore, not since the mist had come. Hardly any of us could perform the simplest of spells. _

_One man, tall, imposing, with lank black hair was quickly searching through the captives, his dark eyes flitting from one face to the next. He stopped in front of me; I felt faint, could barely draw my breath. His identity was confirmed the moment he spoke—Snape's voice was unmistakable. "Quickly, Granger—tell me who killed Potter!" _

_He was standing before me, robed in black, cutting me with the obsidian knife that was his voice. I shook my head mutely, unable to utter a word._

"_Tell me!" he roared, grasping the fabric of my school robes and twisting them at my throat, pulling me off my knees. I couldn't breathe. Suddenly, he was gone. I looked up to see the Death Eaters moving behind those of us kneeling, all attention on the figure who was now crossing the flagstones to stop in front of us. Eyes burned, claw-like hands clenched, and mimicking his pet Slytherin, he surveyed each of us in turn. He stopped in front of me. I could feel the students to either side shrink away in terror, leaving me to face the Dark Lord Voldemort. I could feel him, his will, his intent burning through me. I fought as hard as I could to suppress my memories of the final battle. I should have known it wouldn't work. _

"_Her." _

_He knew. He knew what I had done to Harry after they'd confronted each other on the castle grounds. _

"_Take her to the lake. Hold her under the water until she is no more." _

_My death sentence was delivered in that hateful, high-pitched voice that belonged only to the Dark Lord now. Although I had expected no mercy or forgiveness, his words hit me with the force of a shotgun blast. I would join Ron and Harry in death, along with so many others. A man sprang forward to grasp my arm in a brutal grip. I didn't need to see past the silvery death mask; it could only be Snape, my former teacher, ally, and now, executioner. How elated he must feel! To end the life of the girl who was the last reminder of the child of the woman he'd loved. How stupid I was to think he had accepted me as a confidant during long talks at Grimmauld Place, that I could ever even dream of taking _her_ place in his mind. He had sworn to protect Lily's son, and now the last remnant of his failure was his to destroy. _

_I barely registered the screams of the students around me as I was dragged along, pinned against the body of the man who was to kill me. It's odd what small details one remembers... the painful pressure of his icy fingers, the feel of his buttons digging into my skin, the throbbing of his heart as we raced away from the East hall. Professor McGonagall's cries of agony, pleas for the Dark Lord to spare my life, echoed along the corridors after us as Snape practically ran with me toward the main doors to the grounds, giving no thought to the terrors that lurked outside. Beyond them awaited the lake where Harry had died under the black waters a few weeks before, during the fight for control of Hogwarts. It was the path I took every night in my dreams... to watch Harry drown, his green eyes accusing me in madness and rage. Now retracing those steps with Severus Snape, I felt betrayed. _

_I can remember all of it, even though I'm not supposed to. _

oo000oo oo000oo oo000oo

A bell rang, signalling the start of her day's service to her Lord. Sighing, she carefully blotted the entry and then closed the leather-bound book. It would be daybreak soon, although it was hard to tell anymore with the ever-present mist covering the countryside. She rose to don her grey robes and returned the journal to its sanctuary under the mattress. She would be expected in the kitchens soon to help prepare the day's meagre meals.

There was no need to search out a mirror; they were all far past any sense of personal vanity. Just as before the battle, she learnt her lessons well. Her Lord's commandments were clear, and there was an inner beauty and peace in obedience, she told herself as she walked the halls of her former school. The classrooms were sealed, save one where the white-robed students of Purity House received their daily lesson on what it meant to be a witch or wizard in this new world. She no longer spared the open classroom doorway a glance. The faces never changed: pale, frightened, and hopeless. She descended the stairs and immediately began laying out her knives and brushes. There would be a harvest today of fresh produce from Greenhouse One, provided the men could return in safety this time. Still, it never hurt to have everything prepared before moving on to the cooking of the thin gruel that passed for the Faithfuls' breakfast.

"So, they're making another run today, eh?" Pomona Sprout greeted her with a trace of humour in her voice, wiping her floury hands against the white of her robes. A scarf was tied tightly, covering her bare scalp more in the interests of hygiene than a desire to hide the salt and pepper stubble.

"You know I can't talk about anything that happens among the Faithful," she replied gently, barely repressing a smile.

"You've already told me, Jane." Sprout smirked, motioning toward the kitchen tools laid out with precision along the wooden cutting block.

"I cannot control another's eyes, and where they choose to go," she replied, finally allowing a smile in response to Sprout's grin. It was a small victory; any act of defiance was to be viewed as a victory, even something as simple as alerting those within the castle that soon some of their gaolers would be outside, and possibly not returning. She knew it would be whispered throughout the captive population by noon. She turned to the fire Sprout had started in the great stone fireplace. The water in the cauldron hanging from crewkes over the flames was simmering, ready to receive the coarse grains and salt. Another day, another chance to plan. Another night to continue writing the story of the Girl Who Died.

oo000oo oo000oo oo000oo

Night was coming. The mist had grey tones, a deeper purplish tinge to the constant swirls and eddies of water droplets. It pressed against the windows, searched hungrily along the doors, and carefully-warded chimneys. It sought those who resided within Hogwarts castle, possibly the last haven of magical beings in Europe. There was no way to determine the extent of the horror that had befallen their kind. The Floo network had long since failed, Apparition was not possible, and only the suicidal attempted to flee on broom from the stone walls of this prison. Exposure to the mist had strange effects on the animals, too. McGonagall reported that even the owls no longer had the ability to navigate. It had been a full month since the last owl from outside Hogwarts had shown up in the Owlery. Well, most of it had. The other birds had reacted violently, and in panic ripped the stranger to pieces, the blood, sinew, and plumage strewn across the wooden floor of their roost.

She tasted the stew one last time; it was as good as she could make it. The last of the vegetables from the pantry steamed alongside a few chunks of meat she'd rather not examine too closely. None of the remaining livestock in the courtyard had been slaughtered; that left the only other two sources of fresh meat: owls and rats. Quietly, she called Sprout over to handle the transportation of the stew to the Great Hall's tables, and slipped away from her post.

She'd managed to find a reason to be in the upper hall when the harvesting party set off to the greenhouse. She watched as three men, armed with thick metal bars prised from dungeon cells, slipped quietly out the castle doors. Counting the steps to herself, she imagined them moving stealthily along the outer walls, then running across the exposed length of lawn toward the side of the castle, dependent upon the evening's dying light to hide them as the mist began to darken. A few moments later, she surmised they must have reached the greenhouse. Allow a few minutes to cut, rip and pull as much of the fruits, leaves and vegetables as possible, and then it was back out into the mist, where _they_ dwelled. It was a hard choice. Part of her wished that the men would vanish, stretching the Dark Lord's Faithful in the castle even thinner, but her mouth watered thinking of the fresh greens and sweet fruits they could bring back, and Severus would ensure she was given first pick of the spoils.

Near her, more of the Faithful gathered, talking quietly, glancing around warily like a flock of ravens in search of a corpse to pick clean. She edged nearer, pretending to inspect the work of a few white-clad girls, barely her age, cleaning the flagstones with rags and water. It didn't matter that the small number of people left in the castle could never clean every floor in this way, the motto of Purity House was redemption through hard work, no matter how meaningless the endeavour. She was close enough now to listen freely to the huddled men's conversation. Her Piety House robes made her no more noticeable than a piece of furniture.

"We need to send someone out there," insisted Dawlish, his former Auror instincts kicking in.

"No! They were foolish to go in the first place, and now you want to risk more people?" snapped Draco Malfoy, tall and pale, standing beside Professor Snape. Both men wore their hair long and loose as a badge of honour. The strands fell softly across their shoulders and down their backs. Pale white met black as Draco ran a hand through his locks in frustration, unintentionally twining strands with Snape's. When had she begun to find hair so fascinating? She found herself in full agreement with her former classmate. To venture outside unprepared was foolhardy.

A thud against the wooden doors halted all conversation. Dawlish moved quickly to the doors and, after receiving confirmation of who was outside, lifted the metal braces that reinforced them. Two men stumbled into the entryway. Each clutched a burlap sack of food from the greenhouse, and dropped his metal bar carelessly onto the just-cleaned stones, splattering them with blood.

"Close it!" one yelled. "They're all around the grounds!"

Dawlish hurriedly complied, slipping the braces back into place as the two men made haste toward the grand staircase.

"Where's Danvers?" Snape demanded, his voice carrying clearly to the retreating men, and to the girls hurriedly moving in to slosh their cloths across the stone floor, causing them to freeze for a moment in alarm. Great anger was evident in his tone. There was no reply.

Snape turned to Draco, leaning in to whisper something she couldn't hear, and then he ordered Dawlish to let him out.

"No!" she cried out, hand raised as if to clutch at his robes.

Ignoring her outburst, Snape grabbed one of the bloodied metal bars on the floor and nodded to Draco before slipping out the door.

Draco took notice and cuffed her soundly, "Know your place, woman!" he chastised. Meeting his eyes for a brief moment, she knew he was just as sickened by fear as she. And remarkably, she saw something she hasn't seen since the occupation: recognition. He knew her!

Dropping her gaze to the floor, she managed to whisper, "My apologies, Noble One."

The girls pulled her away, out of sight of the men in their dark robes. "Are you trying to get us killed?"

"I'm sorry, I just..." she trailed off, unable to express the panic she felt knowing that Professor Snape had just ventured into the mist alone. It was stupid, and dangerous. If those _things_, those Inferi were outside, then both Snape and the missing man were probably never coming back. As darkness fell, she knew there were even worse things hunting in the mist.

The girls scattered, unwilling to draw any more attention of the Faithful. She returned to the foyer, back pressed against the cold stone wall, no longer making an attempt to appear unconcerned. An unnatural silence filled the room as Draco and Dawlish stayed near the doors, listening. A shudder ran through her as a chill permeated the air. Her thin robes and fraying school blouse did nothing to combat the cold and damp, and her place in Piety House allowed her the grey robes and beginnings of hair, but with only a few inches of length; she might as well have none for all the warmth it provided. As the minutes passed, she could feel herself shake, but not from the cold. Sharp prickles stung behind her eyes as she willed herself not to cry. She owed him nothing, she told herself firmly. Except her life. The first tear spilled down her cheek.

The bell rang again. It was time to attend her Lord. Slowly, she turned away from the others and walked toward the Great Hall.

It was Tuesday. She hated Tuesdays. It was the day that they gathered in the Great Hall to hear the Commandments of their Lord. In all these many weeks, the Dark Lord had only come once, preferring to allow dissemination of His Word through the most trusted of his Faithful. A bizarre ritual was held at these weekly meetings to gauge the Purity House members' progress. One by one, the white-robed adherents would lay face down on the floor as any who had knowledge of their misdeeds was encouraged to come forth and share them. Punishments entailed more work shifts, banishment from meals, and dependent upon the severity of the misdeed, beatings. As time went on, the captives learnt that while to turn each other in guaranteed more food and lighter work schedules, it also promised reprisals after lights out. Very few people came forward to carry tales this evening.

Later that night, she crept through her room and into Severus's quarters. His scent remained; the bed was undisturbed and reading chair was empty. Her last chance for escape from this hellish world was lying dead somewhere on the castle grounds. In grief, she reached for a quill and opened her journal, where she could be Hermione again.

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_The Dark Lord condemned me to die. I have a very clear memory of Snape pulling me out of the East hall, the screams and pleas reverberating loudly along the stone hallways. _Think!_ I ordered myself, but there was not one thing I could say to this man, who fed off cruelty and anger, to save my life. Pulled this way and that, I counted the number of corridors we marched through, measuring my life in the remaining steps toward the massive front doors directly ahead. _

_Suddenly, we veered sharply, descending through narrow staircases and cobwebbed hallways long disused, leading far past the Slytherin common room and through an adjacent dungeon. We reached a suite of rooms where the walls wept as the lake battered ancient stone. He threw me onto the bed and pinned me in place against the mattress. The air in the cell was thick with moisture, the blackness absolute. _

"_Which do you fear more, death or life?" he finally whispered, in a softer voice than I could've ever imagined. Sensing my life hung by a very slender thread, I said nothing. Apparently, that was the correct answer, as I felt his hand move to caress my hair. The weight holding me down vanished and I felt the mattress jolt violently as he got up and moved away through the darkness. I sprang to my feet as he crossed the doorway, only to ram my fists against the thick oaken door he closed behind him. Feeling my way back to the bed, I wrapped myself in the blanket and cried. I thought I cried for Harry, Ron, my family and friends, but I could not admit that I was really crying for myself. _

_I woke after untold hours, clad only in my undergarments. The dim candlelight did little to illuminate the room, and my head felt as though it had been cleaved in two. My clothes were missing, replaced by a set of grey robes. As I slipped them on, I noticed a scrap of parchment concealed within the folds. 'Jane Prince.' I lifted my hands to my painfully swollen face, and then to my hair, to find only rough skin and stubble. As that was sinking in, the sound of metal against metal turned my attention to the door. It swung open, and Snape stood in the doorway once again, heavy metal key in hand. We stood there just staring at each other. He was still clad in his dark robes, black hair longer than I remembered from Order gatherings. It suited him. _

_In contrast to his rough handling of me last night, he seemed on an even keel this morning, neither wound tightly nor bristling with hostility. We could almost have been back in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, drinking tea and reading between the lines of the _Daily Prophet_, back when once or twice, I thought I could see a little more of the man than even he suspected. Back when I thought we had become friends, of a sort. I broke away from his regarding stare and glanced at the bruises on my wrists. Each one would perfectly match his fingers. Finally he spoke. _

"_Good morning, Jane. Our Lord awaits us." _

_I wanted to scream at him, _'Why are you doing this? What sick game are you playing now...?'_ My jaw muscles would not move; nothing felt right. I stared at him as if he had gone insane. _

"_You are my second cousin from the Prince family. Precautions have been taken to ensure your _relative_ safety for today." He motioned for me to proceed him out the door, and through his quarters. _

Did he just make a joke?_ A sharp, stinging pain around my mouth prevented me from speaking aloud my incredulity that the Dark Lord would not recognise me, despite the new robes and shorn hair. He seemed to understand my reluctance. He continued to speak in a low voice as we walked through his quarters and into the corridor, taking my arm in his. _

"_Keep yourself calm and your thoughts serene. Avoid direct eye contact; he can sense fear and deception. As a pure-blood, he will pass over you, intimidated by your blood status like the mongrel dog he is." _

_I gave a disbelieving snort, stopped walking, and met his eyes. _Surely, a wizard as powerful as Voldemort would have better ways to judge heritage than someone's word. _I felt a tickle inside my head. _

"_Yes, Jane," he replied, sensing my doubts. "The most powerful wizard in a generation must rely upon familial records, or in the case of a girl who never attended Hogwarts, family assertion. Do not speak to anyone, do as you are told at all times. Both our lives depend upon your obedience."_

Why?_ I thought, pushing my puzzlement to the front of my thoughts. _Why are you doing this?

_He looked away, apparently no longer interested in entertaining my questions. Taking my arm in his, we continued our stroll. _

_As we approached Great Hall and heard that ghastly high-pitched giggle, I pulled back. "No!" I managed to hiss through clenched teeth. _

_He drew me forward, gripping my arm just as tightly as the night before. "Don't make me regret my decision." _

_We continued walking. Captives, who had been herded into the Great Hall, were on their knees. Walking with my arm back in Snape's, I kept my eyes down, staring at the flagstones before me, terrified that someone would call my name, thus alerting the Dark Lord that I still lived. I needn't have bothered; the Dark Lord's attention was held by his new worshipers. Snape led me to the side where the black-robed Faithful stood with what I assumed were family members, dressed in grey. All of the wives' and children's heads were shorn, showing obedience to their Lord. They stood in silent witness to the travesty unfolding before them._

_One by one, the captives were led forward to the Sorting stool. The Dark Lord would cackle gleefully as he made a stabbing motion with his wand and their hair fell to the floor. They were then made to recite their lineage. Those of pure-blood descent who were willing to swear fealty were "Sorted" into Piety House and given grey robes. Those of uncertain descent, or who showed aggression toward the take-over, were placed in Purity House and told that they would need to work very hard in order to earn their salvation. Everyone looked tired, scared and defeated. Clearly, it had been a brutal night amongst the Death Eaters. _

"_Liar!" Lord Voldemort shouted. I chanced a quick look toward the Sorting stool, where Professor Sinistra sat, having just pledged her loyalty to her Lord. I returned my gaze to contemplation of the interlocking stones beneath our feet. You can't lie to a Legilimens as powerful as the Dark Lord. Harry tried, and it cost him everything._

_Eventually, the Dark Lord tired of his game and barely looked up as his Faithful brought forward family members to receive his blessing. When it was our turn, Snape pulled me forward and pledged my 'name and lineage' proudly, listing my place of residence as Hogsmeade Village. _

"_Not anymore," snorted the Dark Lord, not even glancing toward me, causing his Faithful to laugh uproariously at his snide comment. With despair in my heart, I understood that Hogsmeade was no longer standing. We were truly cut off from outside help. _

_When Snape swore my allegiance with his life, I almost jerked my head to stare at him in shock, but he pulled me back into the group, and eventually it was over. We left the hall quickly, speaking to no one. _

"_Severus!" _

_Not pausing to turn around, we ignored the call from Minerva McGonagall. _

_An unfamiliar male voice spoke up behind us. "You! Where are you going?" _

_My heart felt as if it would burst from my ribcage; someone recognised me! _

"_Severus, please!" McGonagall caught up to us, and placed a hand on Snape's sleeve. I kept my eyes down and merely stood, waiting. There was a gasp of pain from the Transfiguration professor, and Snape whirled to confront both the man and McGonagall. _

"_I am doing our Lord's bidding. Why do you impede us?" Snape inquired nastily._

"_I-I'm sorry, Noble One," the young man sputtered. "I only saw this one running after you without an escort and using your name as an equal, wh-which she clearly is not," he stammered. _

"_Clearly," Snape agreed, his tone no less menacing. "I will deal with the sin of pride later. For now, I require her presence. Our Lord wishes a complete reckoning of those now entrusted to His Mercy. If Our Lord wishes an explanation for the delay of the lists, I will be sure to mention your name. Now, go!" _

_Without a word, the fellow pivoted smartly, and beat a hasty retreat. _Nice, shiny boots,_ I noted, almost laughing in hysterical relief. _

"_Follow me, and be quiet," he growled to McGonagall, resuming our walk toward his quarters, his arm hooked through mine once more. _

_We returned to the lower level of the Slytherin dungeon, Snape quickly ushering me through his quarters and into my room, cell, whatever. Through the open door, I could hear them talking. For everything that had happened, McGonagall sounded rather deferential to Snape. True to his word, he requested a roster of the surviving students and staff and also penned a brief note that he said would allow her free access throughout the castle as his liaison to the captives. The last bit of their conversation was loud enough that I didn't need to stand at the edge of the doorway to hear it. Snape took her to task for her repeated use of his name. I grinned as I heard Minerva McGonagall, former Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts scold her captor. "I taught you as a boy. I mentored you as a young man. I have tried to forgive you as an adult, and your saving that girl has helped mitigate a small bit of what you have brought upon us, but I will not kow-tow to a man whose snotty, oversized nose I wiped not that long ago."_

_Severus Snape, feared Potions Master, murdering Death Eater, was brought to heel by an aged witch. After cautioning her that her 'spirited attitude' might result in unpleasant consequences from others, he gave her permission to go. _

"_I need to see her," McGonagall stated. "If the Transfiguration is allowed to decay on its own, it will be painful and dangerous." Apparently, he agreed. I was barely able to reach the bed before she rounded the corner and crossed the room toward me. _

"_Jane, darling, I need to reverse the changes I made to your face." She seemed to expect my inability to speak, motioning me to remain seated on the narrow bed. "To keep you safe, we had to Transfigure you for the ceremony. You see, the concealment spell is good enough to mask your identity from anyone else except He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named. We couldn't take the chance he'd notice you."_

_Still unable to properly form sounds with my refashioned mouth, I waited while she reversed the changes, using only short strokes of her hand across my face. Due to the drain we'd all experienced from exposure to the mist, it took far longer than it should have, even wandless. McGonagall sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, regaining her strength. I lifted my hands to my face. It felt normal again. _

"_Thank you, Professor," I said sincerely, the soreness fading. "Will I really not be recognised now? How did you do it?" _

"_It was Severus's idea," she replied, still trying to catch her breath. "His spell is quite unusual; a variant of 'Notice-Me-Not', I should think. Regardless, the end result is, that unless told your true identity, no one will be able to recognise you, not even by your voice. Hermione Granger is as dead as that evil man wanted her to be. You're Jane Prince now." _

"_Why? Why did he save me?" I asked, truly astonished at the length my former professors had gone to save me from Voldemort's edict. _

"_I do not know, child. He came back to us and said it was done—you'd been 'held beneath the water until you were no more.'" _

_Her words struck me as funny, and once again I felt hysterical laughter bubbling up. She stared at me as if I had lost my mind. "He did it. Don't you see?" I waved my hand around in a circle, indicating my room, and the lake water seeping in through centuries-old stone. "I was taken to the water, this must be the wing of the Slytherin dungeons that extends under the lake. I was held here until my identity was gone." I paused for a moment, remembering the feeling of his body crushing mine into the mattress, the breathiness at my ear as he'd asked me the question... what if I had said no? I shivered against the cold. "He didn't have to lie." _

_McGonagall actually gaped for a moment, the sheer audacity of Snape's actions now evident. "Oh, my," was all she said, shaking her head slowly. "He still loves to walk on the edge...." _

"_What else has happened while I was asleep?" I asked, concerned for my Housemates._

"_After the two of you left, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named became enraged at those who were crying. H-he said... he said that he found it 'infuriating' that they would sob over a murderer—the killer of his true heir. It was just nonsense, and shouting, and then he struck out at us randomly." _

"_Who?" I demanded, anger and fear warring within me. We'd already lost so many._

_She was wiping away tears now. "He forced Malfoy under an Imperius to strike down Pansy Parkinson, and then they lined up some of the older students, the ones they thought would cause trouble." McGonagall's eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry, I just can't talk abo—"_

oo000oo oo000oo oo000oo

The door to Snape's quarters slammed open and Snape stumbled in, helped by Draco.

He was alive! She quickly closed the journal and dropped it onto the carpet. A quick nudge with her foot concealed the book under the chair. She'd deal with the smudged ink later. She stepped out of the shadows and took Snape's other arm.

"You know what you have to do," he said gravely to the younger man.

Ignoring Snape for a moment, Draco turned to her and said, "Take care of him, Granger" and then he was gone.

His skin was cold, yet he sweated profusely. Gripping his wand, he intoned, "_Ignio_," and the candles lit throughout the room. She saw that his hands shook, and he could not undo the buttons on his damp clothing, but he permitted her to unfasten his outer robes, allowing them to fall to the floor. Wordlessly she led him through the sitting area and into his bedroom. She sat him on the bed and knelt to remove his boots and socks. She felt a touch awkward. _If someone were to walk in on us at this moment, I'd have some explaining to do..._ she thought. Snape really seemed out of it, and as she pushed him gently back and lifted his legs onto the bed, he remarked offhandedly, "Sorry about your hair."

"It's all right," she murmured. "Sleep now."

"No," he drawled, once again revisiting that soft voice from her memory. "There's one more piece of the puzzle I need...." Despite his exhaustion, he grabbed her wrists and she recoiled. "No, don't," he admonished. "I need to see... don't fight me." He pulled her down alongside him. "_Legilimens_," he half-whispered, focussing the last of his energies. The greyness swirled around her.

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"I'm afraid," she whispered next to him in the darkness.

"I know."

"I don't want to go back there."

"You never left."

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_She opened her eyes, dazzled by the sunlight reflecting off the water. Wind coming from the moor carried the pungent scent of blooming heather. She could smell rain on the horizon, and hear the call of the birds at the forest's edge stretching behind the castle. The colours were so vivid! The shimmering light danced along ripples in the lake. The grass beneath her shoes seemed to radiate a sharp green, releasing an astringent smell from each crushed blade. A dragonfly seemed to beat its wings in slow motion, suspended against the impossibly blue cerulean sky. She could see its multifaceted eyes move slightly, regarding her. _

_Snape stood beside her, a black blight, a wrongness in this world of rich colour and life. He seemed taller here—with a regal bearing as befitted a half-blood Prince in this dream realm. His normally heavy and lacklustre hair moved and twisted in the breeze. His face was pale white, his mouth a narrow line of pink softening the austere Patrician features. But it was his eyes that commanded her attention: dark, with the bright sunlight revealing specks of lighter brown that she'd not noticed before. _

_His fingers narrow and strong took her hand and together they followed the path up the hill toward the Quidditch stands. Laughter and applause rippled through the air as Gryffindor alumni Fred and George Weasley swooped over the crowd on their brooms in painful slowness re-enacting some of the more outlandish manoeuvres seen at past games. Even those students, staff, and guests converging on the pitch looked as though they were fighting through air as thick as treacle. _

_As she and Snape drew closer, time seemed to catch up in this shadow of Hogwarts' last day. No longer bound by temporal molasses, Fred zoomed past, his hair a fiery copper, his robes a blaze of deep blood and buttercup yellow, as he arced to fly over his former team below. A new roar shook the stands as the crowd caught sight of Harry Potter striding onto the pitch, Firebolt in hand, followed by Ron Weasley, with his Cleansweep._

_Hermione stopped, staring in wonder at her two best friends who were once again alive and well. Harry's dark hair shifted wildly as the wind ran invisible fingers through the untidy mass. He turned to the ginger-haired boy mounting the broom next to him and flashed Ron a huge grin. The very air around Harry seemed to glow with vitality. Ron returned the grin, his brilliant blue eyes narrowed in contemplation of the rival team, not realising that he had only moments to live. _

_There was a distant sound of thunder as the game balls were released and with a loud war-whoop, the Hufflepuff Captain dove directly at Harry hoping to distract him from tracking the Snitch. With a roll of his eyes toward Ron, Harry was off, executing precision turns and closing in on the elusive, fast-paced golden ball. The Hufflepuff followed, attempting to unseat Harry with an aimed whack on a convenient Bludger. Hot-headed Ron zoomed after them, completely disregarding his position as Goal Keeper. _

_Unable to witness again what was about to happen, had already happened, she turned to her companion and buried her face in his robes, her hands clenched into fists pressing against Snape's chest. She barely registered the feel of his arm pulling her tighter against him. The roar became screams of agony as most of the spectators and players were consumed in flames. In her mind's eye she could see huge jets of magical fire emanating from wizards placed strategically around the pitch, giving their own lives to the immolation. Moments later she could hear the popping sounds of the wooden stands burning, and the acrid stench of burnt hair and seared flesh washed over them. _

"_It's over now," Snape spoke softly, his lips almost brushing her ear. He dropped his arm, and reluctantly she turned away from him to face the attack's aftermath. A few survivors crawled across the grass, screaming and writhing, mixed among others who has gone silent and still, their glazed eyes looking into the next life. High above the carnage, Harry, Ron and the Hufflepuff captain circled, expressions of shocked disbelief clear even at that distance. _

_Below, followers of the Dark Lord cast off their outer robes and headed for the castle, clothed in black garments. She wondered if one of them was Snape. Stragglers to the game began sending up showers of red sparks and ran back the way they had come to warn the others. She caught sight of herself fighting against the tide of fleeing people and running toward the pitch. She knew that by the time word of the massacre reached the MLE, it would be too late. The anti-Apparation fields would delay their arrival._

_Several of those gathered below pointed up to where the three boys flew. Beams of light painted the sky as the boys dodged and climbed toward the gathering storm clouds. The Hufflepuff escaped, obscured by the clouds. Harry made to follow when a bolt of red from below hit Ron. Helplessly Hermione and Harry watched Ron plummet to the ground._

_A hand on her arm brought her attention back to her companion. Snape was pointing down field, back toward the shore, where a group was preparing to meet the onslaught of people now racing from the castle toward them. With a firm tug he led her toward the melee. Behind her, she could hear the shouts as her memory self and Harry fought to keep the Death Eaters away from where Ron lay broken and bleeding on the grass. Suddenly the battle was fully joined. Flashes of light, yells and taunts seemed to come from all directions. She remembered one of the black-clad men accidentally knocking her to the ground just as a volley of slicing hexes was fired in her direction. She rolled away from him, hand held to her lip where his ring had gouged her flesh, her blood acrid and salty against her tongue. Near her, Harry had Ron up on his feet, helping him to limp toward the lakefront. _

_Another few steps, and she and Severus were standing beside the Dark Lord himself. Never allowed to really look at him, she stared now. The flat plane of his nose—if one could call that mild swelling a nose—distorted his voice. The lipless rim of his mouth reminded her of a snapping turtle until the elongated white tongue emerged as if scenting the blood in the air. His red eyes burned with hatred. This was what Snape and Draco had chosen to willingly serve? As she watched him, he produced a roar of excitement. The crowd seemed to part as Harry Potter came forward. Before the gap closed again, she could see herself limping behind him, supporting Ron. _

_Harry was magnificent. He stood in front of the Dark Lord, calm and focussed, showing a newly-found maturity since the death of Dumbledore. Even Snape seemed to look at him in surprise. _

"_The man whom your lapdog killed gave me a message for you," Harry said. He held out his hand in silent invitation for Voldemort to take it. He kept his wand arm at his side, unafraid. _

_Voldemort laughed, confident in his triumph over Dumbledore's Chosen One. "An old fool's crackpot imaginings and delusion! He sent you before me to die, boy, as he sent your parents. I accept his gift of your life." _

_Voldemort stepped up to Harry, placing his hands on the boy's temples. "I will show you what real power is, just before I use it to end your thrice-damned existence." _

_At his touch, a circuit was completed. They both stiffened, and Voldemort wailed in pain. He shouted "No!" before starting to gurgle as if drowning, clawing at his throat for air. _

_Cries came from all around them: "My Lord! My Lord!" _

"_It's working!" Ron crowed beside her memory-self. _

_Then it was over. The Dark Lord's body lay on the grass, grey as a fish's underbelly, and Harry fell to his hands and knees, spent. Ron fought to move toward his friend, encouraging Hermione to get him closer. Harry slowly rose to his feet, staring at the Dark Lord sprawled before him. Voldemort's followers continued to fight, enraged by the death of their leader, but not one approached the teenaged trio. _

"_Harry, you did it! You killed that murdering bastard!" Ron was ecstatically hobbling forward still leaning on her arm. Hermione watched herself throw her free arm around Harry's shoulders, crying and laughing joyously all at once, the Quidditch carnage forgotten for a moment. _

_Harry felt as hard and cold as a steel golem and sloughed off her touch. Harry laughed then, that same high-pitched giggle that sent grown men cowering before their Dark Lord. Hermione gasped in horror, but Ron was oblivious, lurching close enough to clasp Harry on the back. _

"_Would you like to know what it felt like?" Harry asked, grinning oddly. Ron's exuberance began to fade, his ginger freckles standing out in stark contrast to the sudden paleness of his face. Harry backhanded Hermione as hard as he could, sending her to the ground before turning his attention to his best friend. _

_Harry grabbed Ron, and paying no attention to his friend's great pain, dragged him to the lake's edge, the wavelets lapping at their Quidditch boots. "Harry—" was the last she heard him say pleadingly before both boys plunged into the water and vanished beneath the surface. _

_Snape watched the scene replay without any expression. It was almost as though he was expecting what came next. Beside Snape she shivered remembering how cold the water had been that day. She started as Snape put his arm around her shoulders, his fingers tracing an unseen pattern through her short hair. She welcomed his touch, helping to remind her that this was a memory playing out before them. _

_Hermione watched her memory-self spring to her feet and run into the water, calling both boys' names. She dove, searching by touch in the murky depths until the need to breathe brought her back. The second time she disappeared under the water, a dark-haired head broke the surface as Harry swam toward the shallows. Hermione came up from underneath him, latched onto his arm, and screamed, "What have you done? Where's Ron?" _

"_If you have to ask me that, you're even more stupid than he thought," Harry replied maliciously. "The gift of love," he sneered as they continued into the shallower water. "I can see the old fool's gambit now. The boy never had a chance against this power," he said, flexing his arms to stay afloat. _

"_Harry," she whispered. "Are you still there? Fight him, Harry! You've got to fight this—" Her words were cut off as he reached out and pushed her head under the water and kicked roughly. He continued his movement toward the gently sloping shore, his feet now touching the rocky bottom. There was an explosion of water behind him as Hermione broke the surface once more, grabbing Harry from behind and pulling him off balance. They wrestled for a moment in the waist-deep water until she brought a fist-sized rock against his skull with as much force as she could. She hit him again, and again, crying as she gained the upper hand, and finally, he slipped beneath the shallow water, eyes bright and wide with madness and the realisation of what was happening. She knelt then, pinning him until there was no more movement. _

_After a time she would leave him, making her way out of the lake and staggering toward the castle, incoherent in grief and hysteria. Behind her, the body of the Dark Lord staggered to its feet, a scream of pure rage echoing into the forest. The colour leached out of the world, and Hermione fell back into the dark grey nothingness. _

oo000oo oo000oo oo000oo

A soft knock at the bedroom door woke her. Draco had already entered from the sitting room, waving his hand toward the candles on the nightstand to re-light them. Although it was still dim, there was enough illumination to see that she was lying in Severus's armpit, her arm draped carelessly across his bare chest, his face nestled against her hair. Draco stood beside the bed and smirked. Carefully, she sat up, mindful of the man whose bed she was temporarily sharing. "It's not what you think," she said, keeping her voice to a whisper.

"Why not, Granger? He wouldn't mind," he shot back, clearly enjoying her distress. "Though mind you, you're a bit overdressed."

_Ack! The prat was insufferable,_ she thought, blowing a wisp of hair out of her eyes.

He waited until she had detangled herself from the bedclothes before turning to a more serious tone. "It is still strange to call you Granger, let alone see your face appear from nowhere yesterday. I... I'm glad you weren't killed," he finished, his voice shaking slightly.

Looking closer, she saw that the cocky young man who'd gloated about delivering the castle to his Lord was gone. In his place, this Draco seemed subdued, choosing to hide behind his own especially irritating brand of humour. She couldn't begin to imagine what it must have been like to finally see the Dark Lord for what he truly was and do the things he must have been made to do these past weeks.

Deciding to put the circumstances of their imprisonment behind her, she smiled wanly. "It's good to be able to talk to someone who knows me, other than Minerva and Severus—I mean, Snape," she hurriedly corrected herself as Draco's eyebrow lifted in surprised interest.

"How's he doing?" Draco asked, jerking his head toward the sleeping man. "Or, perhaps I should wait to ask 'Sev-er-us' when he awakens?"

She scowled at him, still too emotionally drained from the mental journey last night to really want to verbally spar with him. And she meant what she had said; it was nice to talk with someone who could remember things as they had once been. Severus must have weighed the very real possibility that he could have died outside yesterday and decided to take a chance on sharing his secret with Draco. She could still see the stunned look on Draco's face after Snape had whispered to him.

"I need to get changed," she said, hurrying past Draco and into her small room.

"Convenient," he snickered, noting that her room was a part of Snape's suite. She did not respond, except to close the door. Stripping off her sweat-stained robes from yesterday, she quickly donned fresh clothing and re-emerged, stopping dead in the middle of the room. _Wait a moment!_ She raised both hands to the mop of tangled hair on her head. "I have hair," she blurted out in wonder. Draco gave her a look that clearly doubted her mental stability.

"You have a penchant for stating the obvious, Granger," he commented wryly, watching her flee Snape's quarters to begin her day's work in the kitchens.

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That morning, she could not keep her mind fully on her work. She found herself frequently pausing to touch her hair, or tuck a strand back into the improvised tie made from a piece of kitchen twine. She positively beamed as she went about slicing vegetables with the precision required for potion ingredients, humming under her breath.

"It looks good on you," was Pomona Sprout's only comment, but she could tell that Sprout was amused at how such a small thing made her so happy.

She could still feel Severus's fingers stroking the short tufts of hair last night as they watched the battle in her memoryscape. She could sense residual patterns of magic along her scalp where he had caressed her, causing her hair to lengthen. She could still feel it trying to grow a bit more.

A first-year timidly entered the kitchen and held out a note to Sprout, who then passed it to her.

She unfolded the parchment addressed to Jane Prince.

_Your presence is required for the remainder of the day. _

There was no need of a signature. She'd spent years reading that spiky scrawl on every Potions assignment. "Looks as if you'll be handling everything alone, then," she remarked to Sprout.

"Never thought I'd miss having house-elves around," Sprout grumbled in return. The first-year looked at Sprout in alarm, and moved quickly for the stairs. The disappearance of the house-elves was one of many taboo subjects now.

"Thank you," she called toward the girl's retreating footsteps.

Smiling, Jane ascended the stairs to the third floor. Now, perhaps she'd finally get some answers.


	2. Chapter 2

As she was used to, she knocked on the door to Severus's rooms and entered without waiting for acknowledgement. Usually he paid her no heed as she made her way through to her own room. This afternoon, though, his sitting room was filled with people. Minerva smiled and motioned her over to the small settee. Aside from Severus, Minerva and Draco, there were several older students, and even two of the Dark Lord's black-robed Faithful in attendance, Pederson and Hartnell.

"Jane, nice of you to join us," Severus drawled, as if clandestine meetings were the norm every day. She took the hint; she was to continue playing her role as the privileged cousin.

He continued addressing those assembled. "On the last excursion outside, I was able to walk for some distance into the forest. The rumour can be confirmed that the centaurs remain, but they've gone silent. They will offer no assistance to us in this conflict."

There were low murmurs at that news. She knew that some had been holding out hope of the centaurs or people from Hogsmeade helping them to escape from the castle. Most had given up hope on the Ministry still being intact; too much time had passed with no word.

"I think our best chance is to start sending people out in small numbers heading directly for the train station. If there's no transport waiting there, we can follow the tracks southward toward a large Muggle township," Minerva put forth.

"There's no time," Severus countered. "The Dark Lord may not notice absences at first, but most assuredly some of the Faithful would. We have only a brief time in which to have the best chance of success during the golden hour."

"But, why don't we go at night? The Inferi are less likely to see us," Ryan asked. She was reminded again why he had always been marked down for being ill-prepared. She'd not been outside, but even she'd felt the icy malevolence of Dementors in the dark. In the mist, they'd take out everyone effortlessly.

"The twilight hours are the best time frame," Severus responded. "The Inferi hunt by sight and sound, and the Dementors are more active at night. Nautical twilight offers the only cover we have to get as far from here as we can. The most important thing is that we leave in a careful and planned manner."

Several people were nodding in agreement with Snape's logic.

"But, just how far does the mist extend?" she asked.

Draco glared at her in annoyance. "If you'd bothered to attend the meetings, you'd know."

"My cousin has been otherwise occupied," Severus rebuked Draco. "She will be told what she needs to know later."

Draco's contrite "Sorry, Professor," drew smiles and a few muted chuckles, as Draco had intended.

Soon enough the meeting ended, and the four of them, Minerva, Severus, Draco and she were sipping tea. _Civilisations fall, but tea is eternal,_ she mused. Minerva looked unsettled, as though she was anxious to say something.

"Jane, dear, don't you have reading to catch up on?" Minerva asked, clearly hoping she'd take the hint to excuse herself.

"I know who she is," Draco replied for her.

"Oh." Minerva looked at Severus, who rolled his eyes.

"It was necessary," was all Severus would say about it.

"I don't have much longer before someone will come looking for me," Minerva remarked. "From what we know now, how soon until we can make an attempt?"

"The decree takes effect in two days so I think that our best chance will be tomorrow evening. Secrets shared among this many people have a tendency to come out," Draco said.

"Tomorrow? Will they be ready?" Minerva questioned.

"They'll have to be. Our Lord's newest whims have made it now or never," Severus replied.

"That _thing_ is the most disgusting and vulgar... to force these decrees upon children! He is truly a monster." McGonagall set her cup aside no longer interested in the wizarding world's panacea.

Jane looked up, and caught Severus staring at her, an odd expression on his face. He blinked quickly and looked away. "It won't happen as easily as the Dark Lord believes," Severus remarked to Minerva. "Already, many of the Faithful are beginning to question these orders, even if only to themselves."

"Most cogent idea he's had in weeks." Draco smirked at Severus and then turned to her. "What's your take on it, Granger?"

Beside her Minerva made a sound of disgust, and stood. "Some day, Mr Malfoy, you'll be ashamed making light of such a thing. After what happened to that poor Parkinson girl, I'd think you'd want to protect your classmates."

"Ah, but anyone who puts their trust in me ends up dead, didn't Severus tell you that?" Draco's bantering was light, but the pain and bitterness were clear to all.

"Self-pity does not become you, Draco," Severus spoke up. "Nor does attempting to shock people for a reaction. Jane does not yet know about the decrees."

"Hermione." Draco challenged him.

"Hermione Granger is dead, Jane Prince is still very much with us. It would do you well to remember that, and use the appropriate name."

"Oh, yes, Severus. Let us always be 'appropriate'. Tell me, who will _you_ choose to appease our Lord?" Draco asked nastily.

"Get out."

Snape's tone left no room for misunderstanding. If Draco valued the ability to breathe, he would leave now.

"Go," McGonagall said, shooing the blond boy from the room. "Jane, please walk with me to the classroom, we can discuss what you've missed." They left Snape in his rooms, sipping tea and looking furious.

She walked slowly through the deserted dungeons alongside her former teacher. Draco skulked somewhere behind them.

"Why was I not told anything?" she demanded, keeping an eye out for possible eavesdroppers.

"Severus thought it best that you be kept ignorant of what's been happening. He knows you have a role to play and didn't want any distractions for you. We all care about keeping you safe from harm," McGonagall explained. Behind them, Draco snorted. "Of course some people take our situation a little more seriously than others," she said testily.

"You know I can hear you, right?" Draco mocked, moving a little closer to the strolling pair.

Ignoring him, she continued. "The Dark Lord's gone mad."

"Stark raving bonkers," Draco chimed in. "His cheese has most definitely slipped off his cracker, not that he was altogether right before."

"That will do, Mr Malfoy," McGonagall reproached.

"Harry," Jane said sadly.

"That is what Severus believes, that the confrontation with Mr Potter drove him insane," Minerva affirmed.

"He even referred to our dearly departed Potter as his 'true heir'," Draco said, laughing.

_When did his mocking laughter start to sound like he's crying inside?_ Jane mused. _He's closer to the truth than he realises. Harry became Voldemort's at the end...._

"He's beyond the reach of all reason and humanity. The things he's done... I think he actually considers himself to be a God now." Minerva sighed.

"What is this decree you mentioned?" Jane asked.

"That's not important right now. If the fates smile upon us, we'll be gone from here before we must consider new options."

"But—"

"It is not going to affect you presently. What we need to concentrate on is the escape scheme. You ask how far the mist extends? As far as can be determined, it starts to thin just past Hogsmeade. There are precious few opportunities for reconnaissance, but Severus and a few other of the Faithful on the escape committee have been volunteering for food excursions."

Snape's sudden display of anger yesterday made perfect sense now, she thought. He had seized the excuse of a missing man in order to go scouting.

"Are there more Inferi outside the mist? And what about the Dementors?"

"What Dementors?" Draco asked, seriously for once.

"What Dementors? How could you not feel them! They're around the walls at night," she replied scornfully. _Apparently, Ryan was not the only dull knife in the cutlery drawer,_ she thought.

"Really? I thought Severus was hypothesising."

"No, Mr Malfoy," McGonagall informed him. "Did you not pay attention in your Defence classes? Classic Dementor signs present most nights just after darkfall. The castle will not permit them entrance, but their presence can surely be felt within."

"Great. Just great. So we have to outrun the Inferi, sneak past the Dementors, and hope that the mist's magic suppression hasn't permanently damaged us, all while eluding the strongest wizard of our time, who coincidentally, has gone mad as a hatter, and his fanatical followers. I don't see how we can fail to succeed," Draco said sarcastically.

"We don't have a choice," McGonagall replied. "The alternative is unthinkable. What I can't understand is why the Dark Lord is allowing his own people to be killed outside. It doesn't make any sense."

"I'll make it a point to ask him at tea," Draco snarked.

They'd reached the main floor, and Draco peeled away toward his duty station at the tower. "Come, we still have a few minutes before class begins." Minerva gestured toward the former Transfiguration classroom, which had recently undergone a make-over. Replacing the tasteful tapestries on the walls were hand-lettered signs with reminders about honour, truth, loyalty and duty to their Lord.

"You look very pretty, my dear," McGonagall said once they'd closed the door and taken seats near the massive teacher's desk.

"I—I, uh, thank you, Professor," she stammered. To her further embarrassment, her cheeks heated in a blush remembering the feel of Severus's fingers teasing her skin.

"Other than the Faithful, everyone else is trying to grow their hair out, with the exception of you and me." She smirked.

"Did—did they...?" she couldn't find the words to ask about her teacher's long hair, bound in the usual prim bun.

"Oh, they did, Jane. Several times. I Transfigured it back," McGonagall said with a harsh laugh. "I have enough magic for that, at least."

"Is there anything else I should know about tomorrow?" she asked, ready to change the subject back to the possibility of escape.

"There are about twenty of us now. When it is Severus's turn to instruct the students, he's been assessing who has been resisting the assimilation attempts and whom we can trust. As you know, the Inferi have the most trouble seeing at the gloaming, but it is still bright enough for the Dementors to be sluggish. They avoid the mist until nightfall, when they can move freely. Severus hinted that something else is happening, but we've not had a chance to discuss it. The less said to the group, the better. Need to know is best," she assured, echoing Mad-Eye Moody's sentiments about the Order meetings.

She looked down at her hands, examining her nails in minute detail. _So this is how Harry felt... shut away from all the decisions and fighting for any scrap of information. No wonder he was angry that summer.... Either Snape thinks he owns me because he saved my life or he thinks I'm incapable of helping with the escape committee. Either way, this treatment will stop. We need to have a talk tonight._

"What is it?" McGonagall asked, concern for her evident in her tone.

"Oh, um...." She looked up to meet the understanding gaze of her former Head of House. "I was just thinking about how strange it is to think about leaving. Everything's blended together: get up, work, prayers, and sleep, for weeks. I can see how some people can get caught up in that, but surely they'd want to go if they could."

"Some are too afraid that there's nothing left outside of Hogwarts or are convinced that rescue will come soon. Others have been... altered in their thinking by the Dark Lord," McGonagall admitted sadly. "It becomes a hard choice to live with the devil or face the very real prospect of being killed outside. Trust is not an easy choice. I put my life in the hands of a powerful man once before, a man who did not always make morally just decisions, for reasons known only to him. And now, I've done so again, in Severus. I have to trust that, no matter how it all ended, Albus had the true measure of that man. If not, I fear for us all, Jane."

McGonagall rose stiffly from her chair, the strain of bearing so much responsibility for the lives of her students clearly weighing heavily upon her thin shoulders. Jane felt sorry for her and understood the dilemma of using Albus's trust in Severus as assurance that he'd do the right thing for them all. _How do you entrust everyone's lives to the man who killed Albus Dumbledore?_

"There's another thing that's been puzzling me. Why can only some of us cast spells? There's a Slytherin first-year in the kitchens who can use simple magic without a wand, yet I can't even light a candle," she complained to McGonagall.

"I'm not certain why only some people retain enough ability to use magic," she replied thoughtfully. "Severus believes that once we are free of the mist, we might regain our full abilities in time. Even if we end up little better than Squibs, we'll still be free of this place. You'd better go now, class will begin shortly."

"One quick question, first: what about Professor Sprout? She's coming with us tomorrow, right?" Jane asked.

"I'm not certain," McGonagall said quietly. "The kitchen staff is kept isolated from the rest of us; you probably see more of her than any of us could. I doubt she is aware of the plans because she's not on Severus's 'safe list'."

"But I'm certain she's still all right!" Jane exclaimed. Glancing toward the doorway, she lowered her voice and continued. "She's been using the first-year helpers to pass along what she overhears when we serve meals in the hall."

"I'm glad to know she remains in good spirits, but it is up to Sever—" was all McGonagall could say before the door was pushed open, and white-robed students entered the room for their daily lessons.

Quietly, Jane left the room trying not to look at any of the students entering. It would be hard enough not staring at each person she came across today, wondering if they were part of the escape plan or if they were owned by the Dark Lord. Making a quick decision, she ascended to the third floor and took the stairs to the kitchen to find Pomona Sprout. There was no way her former Herbology professor had been turned, no way. She just had to prove it.

oo000oo oo000oo oo000oo

_We need to talk._ That thought reverberated in her mind the rest of the afternoon. _Severus, we really need to talk...._

She found herself hesitating outside the door to their rooms, wondering if he was still in a bad mood after Draco got under his skin earlier. _Only one way to know for certain._ She turned the handle and pushed the heavy door inward, stepping through into the darkened sitting area. He wasn't there. She relaxed, entering his bedroom, moving toward her own small room.

"Don't you ever knock?" His voice was rough with sleep. She spun around, barely able to discern his shape in the shadows.

Time to beard the dragon in his lair, she thought, steeling herself for the long overdue conversation. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you were asleep," she apologised, crossing over to the bed, and perching on the edge. She still couldn't make out his face in the dimness.

"Brazen little thing you've become," was his comment. She sensed an edge of humour in his tone. "You're back early. I thought Minerva would have kept you occupied with preparations."

"Not that much left to do, actually. Draco's more useful than I am."

"I'll be sure to mention that." She could picture his lips twisted in amusement. "That doesn't answer why you're here in my bed," he said softly, still cloaked in shadow.

"On your bed, and I gather that our discussion is best kept away from the more common areas of the castle," she shot back, with just a hint of cheek. "I assume I have you to thank for this miraculous regrowth?" she asked with a laugh, freeing her hair from the bit of twine.

"Hmmm, I see no difference," he teased.

She huffed, pretending to be offended. "I suppose it was an accidental by-product from last night."

"It's how I see you, Hermione." His voice was roughened honey, sending a frisson of pleasure down her spine. He hadn't called her by that name since many long ago nights at Grimmauld Place. For some reason she could not pin down, it made her sad.

She changed the subject. "I spoke with Professor Sprout."

"About?" he drawled lazily.

"Treacle tart recipes..." She heard him snort. "And the special Portkey to France I had."

He sat up, his face emerging from the darkness as a pale white oval.

"Your _what?_"

"It was really just an old barrette. I let it fall from my pocket this afternoon, and confessed that it was something given to me by my parents, just in case."

"Why on Earth would you... have you lost your mind?" All traces of amusement left him as he lunged forward to grab her arm. She could smell alcohol on his breath.

"I had to know, Severus. I had to know if she'd been turned to the Darkness," she answered seriously.

"Oh, my Lord... of all the stupid...." His words trailed off into strained silence.

A few moments later, out of the quiet came, "And?"

"She passed. She handed it back and begged me to take the children who worked in the kitchen and Great Hall with me."

He let out a sigh of relief. "What did you tell her?"

"I said that I'd think about it. Living with a Slytherin seems to have rubbed off on me. Please don't be angry."

He released her arm, but remained sitting up in the bed. There was another long pause before he replied. "Just when I think I know you, another surprise comes to knock me on my arse. What am I going to do with you, 'Jane Prince'?"

His voice wasn't angry, more resigned to Fate's whim of moving them into the same orbit. She wondered how much he'd had to drink after that spat with Draco.

"That brings me to my next question," she ventured nervously, shifting position slightly to face him.

"Do I want to know?" he mused rhetorically.

"Minerva said there was more you needed to go over before we leave the castle. Did you see any people out there, maybe in Hogsmeade?" she asked, hope evident in her voice.

"Many people," he affirmed grimly. "All long dead and looking for fresh meat."

"Ugh. How well can the Inferi track us in the mist?"

"They hunt by sound and scent. Beyond the edge of the mist, they can see quite well, I found."

She didn't want to know how he knew that. "Is it hopeless, then?" she asked quietly, ready to give in to her feelings of despair.

He did not answer, but his hand returned, brushing a lock of hair from her eyes.

"If you don't believe we'll get out of this, why are you—ow!" A sharp pain made her grab his hand. "Stop, it's caught on your ring!"

"Then stop moving," he snapped. He slowly and painstakingly detangled the strands from the ring's sharp prongs. A glint of silver brought her eyes to his hand.

"I've never seen you wear one before," she remarked, leaning in a bit closer to view the detail. "It's beautiful," she said, noting the elegantly braided metal and green stone held in place by four silver prongs, one of which was bent and twisted outward. _No wonder my hair got caught up in that_, she thought.

"A gift from our Lord," he said with a grimace. "I wear it when I am summoned to his presence."

"He summoned you today?" she asked, alarmed.

"Only briefly," he assured. "Our plans are still on schedule for tomorrow afternoon."

"That's good. I'd hate to think we're inconveniencing the Dark Lord," she said, sarcastically, now understanding the reason Severus had been drinking. "He should really clear his social calendar with the escape committee if he—" She stopped mid sentence as an image flashed through her mind unbidden, and she felt again the red hot pain of the Death Eater's ring cutting her mouth during the battle for Hogwarts. A cut that could very well have been made by a bent prong.

"Severus, does he give rings to every member of the Faithful?"

"No, this was given to me after the... after I left the school. Why?" he asked, nonplussed.

_After you killed Dumbledore_, she mentally supplied the words he would not speak aloud.

"It was you," she breathed. "When we went back in my memories to the battle, I couldn't find you. You're the one who pushed me down during the crossfire." She waited for him to deny it. He didn't.

"It was necessary," he muttered, misunderstanding her epiphany. "I was knocked out by one of the hexes. I needed to view the confrontation from your memories. I know it was... stressful."

"Did any of it help?" she asked, curious, putting aside the realisation for the moment that Snape had been shadowing her that summer's day, saving her life.

"More than you could know," he replied, His lips twisting into a cruel smile usually reserved for Gryffindors and clumsy Hufflepuffs.

Exasperated, she drew back from him, scooting to the very edge of the mattress. "Stop treating me like a child. Either talk to me as an equal or don't bother talking at all," she fumed.

"Or you'll hold your breath?"

Oh, how she hated that mocking tone that he used so well.

She stared at him in silence, a determined look on her face caught in the candlelight.

"Very well, _Miss Granger_," he eventually said.

"And you can lose the 'Miss Granger',_ Severus_, I think we know each other better than that," she said forcefully, emphasising his first name.

"Very brazen, indeed," he murmured, reclining once more onto the pillows, his arms casually folded behind his head, fingers interlaced. He didn't bother to pull up the bed linen that had fallen to his waist. She could just make out the dark wiry hair of his armpits and the sparse dusting of soft black hair against pale skin across his chest, surrounding the darker patches of areolae. Under one nipple, a shiny line of scar tissue was visible in the candlelight. It looked like the sort of scar a knife's blade would leave, she imagined. His face was obscured once more in the shadow of the bed canopy.

"You asked if there was hope," he began, speaking slowly.

She nodded, watching the shadows play across his skin as the tendrils of light from the candles wavered and flickered in the drafts.

"In a word: yes. I believe that with the proper precautions, most of us can leave this place and find sanctuary."

"How?" she asked, still mesmerised by the movement of light and shadow as his voice caressed the darkness.

"I have looked into the minds of those who will accompany us. None has been corrupted by the Dark Lord, at least not successfully. He made a mistake in underestimating Minerva McGonagall."

She could hear a note of pleasure in that pronouncement.

"She is able to use magic," Hermione interrupted his musings. "She changed my face without a wand, and Transfigured her own hair."

"Several times," he agreed. "The Dark Lord was most put out by her failure to remain 'humbled'. I believe there is an affinity with the mist for those of us who have used Dark magic." One pale hand rose from the shadows at the sound of her gasp, to forestall her exclamation. "It is not my tale to tell, Hermione, but suffice it to say, Minerva wasn't always the strait-laced matron you see today. During the first war, the lines between Dark and Light magic were blurred considerably, for all of us." He motioned toward the dresser, and a bottle of spirits rose into the air and flew gracefully to the bed. "My glass is on the side table, would you mind?" he asked.

She reached over to the bedside table and handed him the glass tumbler. The bottle tipped itself and poured amber liquid before returning to the dresser top.

"Don't you think you've had enough?" she asked, noting his slowed, careful speech.

"Don't nag. After today, I've not had nearly enough to drink." He sat up for a moment, taking a long drink from the glass before settling back down on the pillows.

"Nevertheless, if we leave as a group at the point between daylight and darkness, with those of us who can still use magic to repel the Dementors, we have a chance to reach the outskirts of the mist. Once free of it, I believe everyone's abilities will slowly regenerate over time," he continued, as if no interruption had taken place.

"Fine, so we're either on the train or walking the tracks to points South. Then what? A large group of strangely-dressed people will be hard to miss. What's to keep him from sending creatures or the Faithful to hunt us down?" she questioned.

"Use your head, Hermione," he responded not unkindly. "If he still retained full control over the Dementors and Inferi, do you think we'd still be holed up in this castle facing eventual starvation?"

"The sermons say that he is testing his Chosen Ones, insane bastard that he is," she groused, bringing a snort of amusement from Snape.

"Two weeks ago I was past Hogsmeade, walking along the paths in the forest," he continued. "I heard the sound of an aeroplane overhead. The Muggles are still holding out against the Dark Lord. If we can find a township or a means of long range transportation, we can travel far from the influence of the Dark Lord. Then we'd need to make a new set of decisions based upon what we learn. Is that enough information to prove I take you seriously?"

"More than enough, thank you," she responded.

"It is very important that when this happens tomorrow, you must stay between me and Minerva, with Draco. We can protect the two of you with the Patronus spell, if necessary."

"What about everyone else?"

"They must keep up with us, and hopefully we can make it through the held territory before dark fall. There is one last thing I learnt from our remembrance, something that we must make known to the resistance. Potter succeeded in his task." He sent his glass to the side table without a word, and reached out to take her hand in his.

"What are you talking about? He—he was taken over completely, I saw it in his eyes!" she exclaimed.

Severus's hand continued to hold hers, fingertips stroking her skin, the silver ring cold against the heat of his touch. "I needed to know why the Dark Lord has lost control of the Inferi and Dementors, why we were ensconced in this castle instead of continuing to fight."

"You mean, he's trapped in here right along with us?" she asked incredulously.

"I saw the energies merge as Potter entrapped the Dark Lord. The part of him, the eternal part that controls the dark minions—Potter ripped it away, and I believe, left him mortal."

"He can be killed now," she said, barely above a whisper.

"I think he can be killed now," Severus agreed.


	3. Chapter 3 Final

oo000oo oo000oo oo000oo

The mist glowed white, roiling slowly around the windows, almost bright enough to cast additional reading light over the pages of her book. As a member of Severus Snape's family, she was usually given a wide berth by everyone who did not wish to offend the man who held a place of trust at their Lord's side. Even the raven-robed Faithful tended to ignore her minor transgressions, when they even bothered to notice her at all. The library was far from her duty station in the great kitchens below where dinner was being prepared, yet she was left undisturbed, until a shadow fell over the ancient text.

"Have you been chosen?" a gruff male voice asked without preamble.

She looked up, folding the book closed at the same time.

"Sorry?" Seeing that the man was one of her Lord's Faithful, she added, "Noble One." That was an honourific she'd not soon miss should everything go as planned tomorrow afternoon.

"I said, are you still available for me to choose?" Angus Bloggart replied slowly, his slate-grey eyes holding no warmth or humour, if this was a joke. "Time grows short, and I could offer you protection should something happen to Snape." His tone seemed to imply he'd not be too broken up should something happen to Severus.

"Prince! You're late and Snape wants those books brought to him immediately!"

She had never been so happy to see Draco Malfoy in her life.

"Angus." He nodded to the older man.

"Malfoy," came the equally cold reply.

"Now, Prince. He's ready to start throwing hexes." Draco escorted her away from the appraising stares of several older grey and black robed young men in the hallway.

"Draco, what's going on?" she hissed, as they walked quickly to the safety of the lower dungeons.

"It's started. Everyone is trying to have a choice lined up before the morning hour strikes."

"Enough, already!" She stopped, refusing to take another step. "What is going on?"

"Don't even think about it, _Prince_," he cautioned, taking her arm firmly and tugging her forward. "The next man we run into may not be so easily dissuaded."

Grumbling, she kept pace with him again, heading into the safety of Draco's quarters.

"Okay, we're here now. Speak or let me go," she snapped at him in annoyance as Draco made himself at home on the settee.

"The Dark Lord's announced a new decree, Granger," he began.

"So I keep hearing," she snarked, taking a seat next to him.

"And he just moved up the deadline. I know Severus has confided more information to you than he speaks of in the meetings." He held up his hand to halt her protests. "He does, and I'm okay with that; he has his reasons. What I'm about to do is tell you the rest of it. You'll end up being the only one with a complete picture of our situation, other than Severus, of course."

"Of course," she muttered.

"The Dark Lord has decided that it is time to rebuild the wizarding world in his image. To that end, all of his Faithful, as well as those in Piety House, have been commanded to choose a suitable mate and pop out more converts for the cause. Participation of those in Purity House is not optional, which has given quite a hard shove to those on the fence. As they hear the details, most everyone is whispering about making a run for it outside, with no preparation."

"That would be a disaster," she murmured, envisioning the slaughter. "Can't we buy some more time for them? Maybe pair them up with each other and make it look as though they were obeying, but give us a chance to bring them all into the plan?"

Draco laughed. "You have no clue, Granger. The girls are available to be chosen by anyone _other_ than a Purity boy. The Dark Lord made it perfectly clear that if even one of those boys were caught with a girl, he'd have the whole lot of them castrated. Their role in his great society is to remain chaste, so as to not spread undesirable traits into the flock, and live to serve him. They're also quite handy as examples when he feels like throwing someone off the tower. He's thinking that the rebellion and bad blood can be 'bred out' of the girls by pairing them off with the Faithful. Now, of course, they'll always be a last choice because to truly move up, you need someone who already possesses the proper breeding and position. Someone like... you, _Prince_," he mocked, enjoying her shocked expression.

"Those men...."

"Were lining up for a shot at the Prince Family lottery."

"Charming."

"Yes, isn't it." He smirked.

"So, that's what you meant after the meeting with Severus, asking if he had chosen yet."

"I was out of lemon juice for his open sores."

"He didn't... I mean, has he... chosen anyone?" she asked timidly, not sure she wanted to hear the answer.

"I think you know the answer to that," he said pointedly, making her blush.

"But he'll have to choose tonight, or lose standing?" she queried.

"How naive you are, Granger. There is no failure in the service of Our Lord," he said sarcastically. "In the prayer hall, you've seen the decanter of wine and the glasses on the altar?"

She nodded. "The Blood of Our Lord," she mimicked the Faithfuls' chant.

"The wine is poisoned, Granger. It is a tenet of our 'Lord's mercy' that any member of his Faithful who cannot live up to his duty in Our Lord's Service should be given the ability to die with honour." His voice became hard, and bitter. "Two more of the Faithful drank a toast to Our Lord this afternoon, knowing that they were trapped and they could not comply with his wishes. They had wives and children in London; they felt... they could not go through with this scheme. Comply or die," he cackled unattractively, repeating the Dark Lord's mantra. "We have until dawn to present our choice or drink up. Our Lord will perform 'marriage rites' for us all as the sun comes up."

"Being married off to a stranger, no wonder people are thinking about running tonight," she mused.

"With the Dementors in full strength after darkfall? Don't you pay attention in Defence class, Granger?" he mimicked Professor McGonagall's earlier rebuke. "I wonder how many more will pour a glass before daybreak, rather than go through with something this onerous," he mused. "Would you consider Severus to be a man of honour?" he asked quietly.

The question sent ice water through her veins. "Oh, God."

Draco nodded solemnly. "It may already be too late."

No, Draco had to be mistaken. He'd never leave her here alone. But Severus had seemed so odd this afternoon, so like they used to be... never quite crossing that final boundary between teacher and student. Had it been a test? Had she failed him? She gasped for air, suddenly feeling dizzy and faint from the vivid scene in her mind's eye... Severus, standing before the altar wearing his finest black robes, hair shining in the candlelight, the deep red of the wine in the crystal goblet, the silver of his ring glinting as he raised the elixir to his lips for a final sip....

"You—you don't mean he'll kill himself!" she exclaimed in horror.

Draco's pained expression gave way to annoyance.

"Smartest witch of the age, my arse," his tone was mocking and sarcastic. "No, of course he won't kill himself, you twit!" He crossed his arms, and regarded her petulantly. "He'll try for the train station or go into the woods in the middle of the night, and the two of you will probably die well before morning," Draco sneered, taking out his anguish on her.

Outraged by his cavalier treatment of the situation, and what he had cruelly led her to believe for his own twisted pleasure, she sprung to her feet to confront him.

"How dare you!"

"How dare I what, Granger? How dare I be the only one who isn't sugar-coating everything for you? How dare I tell you the unvarnished truth as though you were an adult and not a helpless little girl?" Colour rose in the blond boy's cheeks, his eyes glittered dangerously. They were now mere inches from each other. For a moment, she thought he was going to try to kiss her. The moment passed when he suddenly burst out laughing.

"Oh, Lord. I sound like Severus," he finally said, gasping for breath.

She just stared at him, unable to keep up with his rapidly shifting moods.

Eventually, he became serious again, and looked at her with a sense of purpose. "We don't have much time, none of us," he said, placing both hands on her shoulders, drawing them closer again. "No, don't interrupt, Granger, I need to say this now, before my common sense catches up with me again." He smiled wanly.

"Do you love him?"

She jerked back as though he'd taken a swing at her.

"There's no more time left for posturing and pride. Do. You. Love. Him?"

Memories of the strict, brilliant Potions professor played in her thoughts. The wickedly acerbic wit and sardonic humour, rarely seen but usually dwelling just below the surface. The man who spent hours over the summer talking, debating and once in awhile teaching her in the wee hours of the morning around the deserted dining table at number twelve, Grimmauld Place. The man who risked his life to save hers, over and over, the one who could redeem himself tomorrow in the eyes of the survivors. The man who'd pledged her loyalty with his life.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath she found herself looking into his ice-grey eyes and baring her soul in a single word.

"Yes."

He closed his eyes for a moment, his lips struggling not to smirk. "Oh, the never-ending fun I would have had with this last summer," he muttered to himself. Fixing his gaze upon her once again, he continued. "Can you convince him to enter into the bond with you, if it becomes necessary?"

"I—I don't know. He's supposed to be my cousin, how would this be allowed?"

Draco laughed then. "Have you never seen a wizarding family tree? I'm surprised the Black Family's even has forks anymore. Second cousins marrying? Not a problem."

"But he pushes me away... everything I try to tell him, he doesn't want to listen," she said despairingly.

"He listens," Draco remarked. "Despite his considerable efforts, Granger, you got to him. He believes you would never consider him, knowing what he's had to do. In some ways he is as naive as you are—anyone with eyes can see that he's in denial about you. He's wrong, of course, and if you don't make him see that, he'll be killed for clinging to the idea that being with you is 'inappropriate'. We're in the middle of the worst nightmare any of us could've conceived, and he's still using Dumbledore's archaic standards as his moral compass. We'll never make it out of here without his help. You have to get through to him tonight, Granger, or it's all going to fall apart. Make him understand that taking a wife to save himself is the rational thing to do, it'll buy us the time we need."

She stared at him as though she'd never seen him before. "I don't know how."

"Figure it out, or one way or another, we're all dead," he said, grabbing her arm and hurrying out the door and down the corridor.

"Mine!" Draco snapped as a young Piety House sixth-year stepped into their path. Jane swerved around the disappointed suitor, still walking as fast as possible toward the lower dungeons, with Draco by her side.

"What will you do, Draco?" she asked suddenly, kicking herself for not thinking about his safety until now.

"Already taken care of," he replied smugly. "I laid marriage claim to Parvati and Padma this morning."

"Both?" she slowed slightly to stare at him.

"Relax," he said. "They're in on the plan. Besides, according to Our Lord, twins are considered to be one person for purposes of procreation." He smirked.

"Minerva was right—you _are_ disgusting."

They reached the door to her and Severus's rooms. "Don't leave under any circumstances," he warned. "If Severus is not here, just wait for him." And with that, he strode off, looking for all the world like a man with no concerns.

She quickly pushed open the heavy door and entered the darkened sitting room. "Severus?" she called out. There was no answer. She peeked into the bedroom, but the bed they'd occupied earlier was rumpled and empty. She returned to the sitting room and prepared to wait as long as was necessary. She was grateful for the time; it would take meticulous preparation to seduce a Slytherin.

oo000oo oo000oo oo000oo

The door opened as she sat in the shadows far away from the few candles left burning on the mantlepiece.

"Marry me, Severus."

To his credit, Snape did not jump or show any outward surprise at either the voice from the dark, or the question.

"You've spoken with Draco, I see," he replied. She could hear the soft rasp of wool on linen as he shrugged out of his robes and laid the garment over the arm of the settee. "I'll tell you what I told him: it would not be appropriate, given our past relationship." He stood at the end of the settee, clothed in shadow.

"Which relationship would that be, Severus? The six years you saw me as a student, or the summer we spent almost every late night together?" she asked directly.

"You make it sound sordid," he said, with a touch of distaste.

"I just wondered when exactly it was that you stopped seeing me as the child I was in class, and noticed the adult I'd become."

"You're still a child. Petty, whiny, and completely convinced of your own importance. You're an obligation, nothing more." The coldness of his words would have wounded deeply had she not heard the faint undertones of hope along with the self-denial in his voice.

"I didn't feel like a child, Severus, not during all those nights. You seemed to enjoy our time together."

He snorted. "I was wound up from playing my role each day. You didn't have the sense to be abed at that hour as any normal person would. It was talk to you, or listen to Arthur's abominable snoring until daybreak. Nothing more."

"Plausible," she agreed in a reasonable tone. "And the day I was bitten by the enchanted snapdragons in the garden? I believe you risked exposing yourself to your fellow Death Eaters, abandoning your post with such alacrity to pull the venom from my veins." She stood, turning to face his darkened outline. "What a bothersome child I must have been, Severus."

"Very," he agreed coolly. "Albus would have been put out if your early demise had upset his precious Potter."

"I see," she said in a clipped voice. "It would have been such a disappointment to Dumbledore should you have been unable to prevent an untimely death."

"You're trying to make me angry; it won't work. Albus's death was not the same type of situation and you know it," he said calmly.

"And what happens to everyone now? From what I gather, no one will be able to decline marriage once called upon by the Dark Lord. It will all be over well before twilight comes tomorrow afternoon. All I am saying is, if it comes to that, choose me."

He laughed, a harsh and unforgiving sound. "Draco does not have all the facts. It is more than being asked to play house for the amusement of the Dark Lord. It is a Dark spell enslaving his sheep in both body and eternal soul, Hermione. We'd lose free will to do much of anything under the fealty binding."

Fealty binding? She sat in stunned silence, unable to believe how much worse their situation was becoming. Submitting to that would be worse than dying... to have no will, no thoughts other than those placed by the spell caster....

"We can go tonight," she said, thinking rapidly, hearing the panic in her own voice. "The watchers don't pay attention after the Dark Lord retires for the evening. We could make for the train station at a run. We'll make sure that everyone who can still cast a Patronus will have a wand...." She didn't sound as though even she believed her desperate words.

"Dementors would surround us, and peel us away like layers on an onion. It's suicide," he shot back. "However," he said after a brief pause, "Those of us who are willing to take the risk can gather after midnight in the Great Hall... they won't miss us until sunrise when the marital bindings begin. There would be almost an hour of civil twilight before the sun's first rays to make as much distance as possible." He was silent for a moment. "There might be a way to gather more people together before the dawn... a pretence of some sort," he mused to himself quietly.

"It could work, then?" She barely dared to hope.

"The problem with a pre-dawn escape is that the Dementors would be active, looking for places to settle down for the day rather than emerging in the evening groggy and hungry."

"I don't care how small the chance is, we either try, or we remain behind and submit to the binding—together," she insisted, rising to her feet. Either way, she would not leave this man. Not now, not ever.

"Think before you make such a pledge, Hermione. We are not given a choice of coming into this world, but we can make a choice in how we leave it," he said gravely. "I am not a good man; I've made decisions—carried out orders that would terrify you. For a long time I haven't been able to feel anything, not even when I murdered Emmeline Vance in cold blood. She thought I was there to save her. I can still hear the relief in her voice as she thanked me for coming to escort her to Hogwarts. In the end, she had the same look of shocked disbelief in her eyes as Miss Parkinson when Draco strangled her. You ask to be bound to a monster, and I can't allow it."

She moved toward him, stopping half an arm's length away, still unable to see his face clearly. "I can't accept that. I do not see you as a monster, Severus; I'm trying to appeal to that vaunted intellect you possess. I know about the edict, I know that if we decide to wait, the choice must be finalised before _him_. If you have someone else in mind as your choice, pray tell me whom you fancy, and I will plead my case, otherwise allow me to save your life, as you've saved mine." Her impassioned plea was ignored.

"Don't insult me," he snarled. "You know I haven't chosen anyone. I thought we'd be gone before this day came," he admitted bitterly. "I refuse to become his pawn in _this_, too. I will not force a woman to be with me against her will and wait for his madness to bring forth even more damning commandments."

"What if it is my choice, Severus? Maybe it's the reason why neither of us could even imagine choosing someone else to be with."

"You're very young, Hermione. Don't confuse gratitude with love; you have no experience to draw from."

_I tried the Slytherin method,_ she mused. _Gryffindor will have to do._ She wished she had a wand and the ability to seal the door, ensuring their privacy, but even then, casting such a spell might draw suspicion from those loyal to their Lord.

"This. Isn't. Gratitude. I know what kind of man you are. I'm an insufferable know-it-all, and nothing you've told me about yourself tonight is a shock," she hissed, closing the gap between them, completely out of patience now. "If I were never your student, would you have the same objections? Don't you feel anything for me at all?" she demanded, frustration infusing her cheeks with heat.

"You have no idea what you're asking of me—" His words were cut off as she threw her arms around his neck and used her weight to pull his head down into a kiss. In the dark, she missed slightly, catching part of his cheek. Quickly she readjusted, pressing her lips against his cold ones. The faint scent of alcohol still clung to his breath; his linen shirt was a rough contrast to his smooth skin under her hands as she tightened her hold around his neck.

After a dazed moment, he pulled away holding her stiffly, hands positioned just under her raised arms. "This is not going to happen, Hermione," he whispered, unconsciously touching his lower lip with the tip of his tongue.

"Why not?" she asked softly, matching his finite tone.

"Because it is wrong," he answered simply.

She could feel his hands tremble slightly against her sides.

"Then it's wrong," she agreed sarcastically, noting that he hadn't moved away from her. She reached a hand up again to run her fingers gently through his long hair, a touch forbidden by their Lord. As her vision adjusted to the dimness, she could see that his eyes were closed; agony and pleasure washed over his features as her fingers caressed his ear and cheek beneath the long strands, and still he did not move away from her touch, tempting fate should someone choose this moment to enter the room. Emboldened, she rose up on her toes to touch his lips with hers again. This time, they were warm and firm against hers. Her eyes widened in surprise as she felt his hands trace gentle circles over her ribs, his thumbs just brushing against the side of her breasts. She twisted slightly in his arms, trying to move his hands where she wanted to feel his touch. He anticipated every movement and his finger strokes stayed maddeningly polite.

He broke the kiss again, but only for a moment. Despite his reticence to touch her, she felt him take a shuddering breath, and then kiss her willingly this time, his warm tongue seeking hers. Stretching upward, she felt the edge of her blouse slip from her skirt, the room's cold air a shock against flushed skin. Grasping his arm with her free hand, she pulled and guided it into the gap and upward to warm flesh. His breathing became harsh as the hand under her blouse seemed to move on its own, kneading her breast and pinching her nipple through the cotton bra.

"We should stop, this doesn't prove anything," he murmured against her mouth, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers. In reply, she pulled the other side of her blouse from the skirt's waistband, and guided his other hand to join its fellow. She shivered at both the incredible sensations his hands were creating, and the cold air against her stomach.

Her blouse was practically shoved up to her neck by his arms. She kissed him again, her tongue forcing its way inside him this time. Oh, God he was a good kisser. She tried not to think about with whom he'd honed this skill. _Now is definitely not the time_, she told herself. His hands were tugging at the elastic now, trying to find where the clasps were hidden, the thin cotton from her blouse tangled around them was hampering his search.

His mouth left hers then, his lips were swollen and parted, adding a slight wheeze to his breath. No more protests issued as he held back a moment, watching her unbutton the troublesome material, her hands brushing his fingers buried under the elastic of her underwear. She pulled the blouse off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor, shivering more in arousal than from the frigid air.

_Don't even _think_ the words 'extra credit' right now, Granger!_ she told herself. He'd run screaming if he knew about all the fantasies she'd had in class that were surprisingly similar to what was happening now.

Now freed, his hands moved unerringly to the treble row of hooks below her scapulae. His long fingers danced over skin, and the tightness of the elastic over her ribs eased as the final hook was undone. She pulled the straps down and this, too, dropped to the floor. Her calves were cramping from being on her toes so long. _Damn, he was tall!_ She took his hands and led him to the settee, trying to push him down.

"No," he said, one hand still touching her.

For a moment, she thought he'd changed his mind again and she'd lost him. In a sudden, violent movement, the settee jerked backward and then slammed into the door, blocking anyone from entering the suite. "Why are you doing this?" he finally asked, eyes closed, listening to her with all of his senses.

"If we fail in our plan, I just want to have you once, before the Dark Lord's bonding compulsion is placed on us. I want to know what it feels like when we're together because we want to be." They remained standing as he renewed his exploration of her mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck again, feeling the friction of her hardened nipples against his shirt.

"Are you telling me the truth?" he whispered, completely surrendering to the inevitable.

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life," she replied truthfully. For a moment, she was sure she'd said something wrong. He stopped his ministrations, and caressed her cheek, drawing a finger over her lips, puffy and warm from his kisses.

"You are with me because you want to be?" His voice was steady, but she could feel his breathing become shallow, his eyes filled with disbelief warring with hope.

She owed Draco so much for pushing her to confront her feelings and finally act upon them. "Yes, Severus, I've felt this way for so long," she answered, tears of relief and happiness threatening to spill down her cheeks.

He unzipped her skirt and pushed it off her hips. He broke the kiss as if he expected a protest when his fingers caught in her silky knickers and smoothed them down her thighs to join the growing pile of clothing at her feet. She quickly toed off her shoes and socks and kissed him passionately again, after informing him in a breathy voice that, "her state of dress compared to his was patently unfair."

He pulled her into his arms, and lifted her as though she weighed nothing. He kissed her passionately and carried her into the bedroom. Whatever the future would bring, it would wait for now.

oo000oo oo000oo oo000oo

The atmosphere inside the Great Hall was strained. The long table nearest the doors was gradually filling up with her former classmates and others who made up the extended network of the Hogwarts escape committee. Several of them looked up tensely as the doors opened again and another three entered. Beside her, Severus focussed on the latecomers. She could almost feel the tingle in the air as he performed a surface scan, searching for evidence of the Dark Lord's tampering. She leaned close to his ear. "Should you be tiring yourself like this?"

"No choice," he whispered tersely, squeezing her hand briefly under the table.

"Snape, that was a stroke of genius, petitioning the Dark Lord to allow marriage instruction for the students this morning. With them all in one place, we can choose a few more to come with us," Keating said, seating himself next to Snape, who inclined his head modestly. Only Minerva and Jane knew Severus well enough to read the mockery behind the gesture.

"Kiss arse," muttered Pederson.

The doors parted again to admit Draco and Ryan, who took seats across from her and Severus. Rather than the lascivious smirk she expected to see on his face, he merely glanced at her and Snape speculatively, as if trying to discern their new dynamic. Jane's face gave nothing away.

"_Tempus_," Draco cast, causing glowing numbers to hover over the table showing it was now 5:30 AM. Before the spell could update to 5:31, the letters became thin tendrils of smoke and dissipated. "Tick tock," he said, ignoring the fact he had only just arrived.

"We're waiting on Sinistra," Cho Chang said.

"Oh! Sorry. She said she'd be late—a little trouble avoiding her husband-to-be," Ryan informed them. "She asked me to gather her people this afternoon when I bring mine, if she's not here by then."

Minerva made a quick note on her list. "Let us begin, then." She flipped the parchment over and began to read from the back. "Sunrise will occur at 8:10, sunset at 3:15, giving us approximately six hours of daylight."

"What are we supposed to do—have everyone hide until just before sunset?" Pederson asked, frustration evident in his voice. As one of the black-robed Faithful his was a precarious position. "You _know_ what the Dark Lord's binding will do, Snape. I'd rather take my chances and leave now."

"I predict there's going to be an epidemic of headaches amongst our new brides today," Draco cut in, attempting to alleviate the tension.

Jane, Minerva, and Chang fixed him with disapproving stares. He rolled his eyes and went back to his study of the people at the table, ever watchful of those around him.

"So, after this 'marriage instruction' and sunrise wedding ceremony, we avoid our new spouses with classes and chores and then we gather our people an hour prior to dusk?" Chang asked, making notes on her own sheet of parchment.

"Not exactly, Miss Chang," Minerva answered.

"We're going this morning." Snape's tone brooked no argument.

There were gasps and protests from those seated at the table.

"I'm afraid that the rumours are true," Minerva explained. The binding is more than marriage, it's enslavement."

"All right," Draco said slowly over the others' questions, switching his attention to Severus, and holding his hand up for silence. "What's the plan?"

"Our Lord will expect his obedient minions to be assembled in this hall at dawn, after receiving instruction from us on how to be properly submissive in their new roles. The plan is to not be here," Snape replied dryly. "Yes, the Dementors will be more active at morning's twilight, but that can't be helped. Each of you will bring your charges here no later than 6:30. Dress them as warmly as possible but no bags or parcels. Emphasise that there is to be _absolutely no noise_. They are to come with you and sit silently until it is time."

"And then?" Ryan asked.

"We run."

oo000oo oo000oo oo000oo

Time passed quickly, as people entered the Great Hall and took a seat at their former House tables. A few of the younger students grouped in the corner and started talking until pounced upon by Jane. "Sit down and be quiet!" she cautioned. Looking up, she saw Professor Sinistra entering the hall. She started to wave, but caught herself. Sinistra wouldn't know her except as Severus's cousin... and bride.

By 6:15, the committee realised there was a problem with the plan. Their group of twenty had swelled to fifty-seven, and more were arriving.

"Looks as if you were right, students are here far too early for the 'class'," Pederson remarked to Minerva. "Our recruits are obviously talking freely, news of the enhanced binding has knocked people off the fence. I think we already have most of the middle and upper years here."

"What about the children downstairs?" Ryan whispered, joining the conversation. "My sister was a first-year—I haven't seen her since the take-over."

Snape's eyes forbade Jane to speak up to reassure them that Pomona Sprout had been contacted. _Something else must be wrong_, she thought, watching the anguish on Ryan's face. _Severus doesn't trust him._

"Since our Lord is concerned that something poisonous might accidentally fall into his soup," Draco explained, "Only certain trusted people can access the elves' area."

"We've been over that, the youngest sleep and work downstairs near the kitchens. Not even the Faithful are permitted there," Pederson replied, also keeping his voice low. "We can't get to them."

"Severus, perhaps we could try to reach the children. I know they're too young to be included in the bindings, but surely they might be allowed up to participate in these 'marital preparation' classes this morning?" Minerva reasoned.

"We will send back help if we are successful," Snape said coldly. If Jane didn't know him better, she'd be convinced he was a complete bastard.

"No, I can't accept that!" Ryan hissed, mindful that their gaggle was drawing attention from the students. "_She_ can go to them." He pointed an accusing finger at Jane. "Can't you go get them? My sister's only eleven, I don't even know if she's alive," Ryan pleaded.

"She's Snape's family, it is on his life that she was assigned to oversee the meals," Pederson replied. "You can't ask her to break that trust, not when Our Lord is becoming more paranoid by the day."

"They're only children!" Minerva's voice cracked with the effort to keep from shouting.

"Enough!" Snape raised his voice slightly, but his eyes held violent fury. "Accept the facts, and move on." Minerva opened her mouth to protest, but Snape cut her off. "As with the untimely demise of your Miss Granger, you know that not all students can be saved," he snarled. McGonagall, to her credit, managed to look convincingly upset, as she drew Ryan off to the side to reason with him further. A touch of wetness at the corners of her eyes indicated that Severus's message had been received—the lower grades were not going to be abandoned without a fight.

He took Jane by the arm and pulled her after him away from the others. "Sit here," he commanded, pointing her toward the High Table. In a few moments, he was back with Minerva, Pederson and Draco. "Will he try to violate the wards?" he snapped at Minerva.

"No, I don't think so. I've told him that the children are too young to be affected by the arranged marriages and probably will remain safe until the Ministry or others can breach the castle." She looked at him appraisingly. "I don't understand why you didn't tell him you're working on getting them out."

"He's too upset, I can't read him," Severus muttered.

"I can't believe he's been turned, Severus. He's been with me nearly the entire week preparing for the escape," she assured.

"One of us has become 'faithful' to the Dark Lord," Snape said grimly. "It is why he moved up his marriage scheme and added the soul fealty binding to it. We've been betrayed by someone on the committee or close enough to it."

"Does he suspect you, Severus?" Draco asked quickly, alarm in his voice.

"You know the answer to that; if he did, I wouldn't be here."

"It's 6:45, Severus," Minerva reminded him. "The rest of them should be on their way here. How are we to handle this?"

"We'll do what is expected of us," Snape assured. "Separate the girls and boys and think of something to keep them in this hall. No one leaves. Too many people have been speaking freely of our plans. This is our best chance for containment. Have Pederson take the boys, and keep the noise down. The less attention our 'class' attracts, the better. Make it very clear to everyone: keep up, no one stops once we leave the castle."

"But, what if—" Minerva began.

"We. Don't. Stop," Snape enunciated slowly. "When the time comes, those who wish to stay behind will be Stunned. We'll have those who can cast the Patronus Charm on the outside, the others in the middle of the group, and should the smaller children start to fall behind, some of the older students will need to carry them, but the more ground we can cover quickly the better the odds of survival."

"What time will are we going?" Draco asked.

"Civil twilight, Draco," Minerva snapped, still irritated by the boy's earlier comments.

"Which is...?" he drawled sarcastically.

"When you can see your hand in front of your face without artificial light," Jane answered.

Draco jumped slightly, forgetting until that moment that she was sitting on Snape's other side. He looked toward the darkened mist swirling outside the windows of the Great Hall.

"Okay, let's do this."

oo000oo oo000oo oo000oo

By 7:10 every marriage-eligible captive had reported to the Great Hall. A blind man could see the notes being passed from hand to hand advising about the enchantment planned for them and the option to risk escape. _So much for the carefully laid out secrecy,_ Jane thought gloomily. _We couldn't have kept a worse secret than if we'd taken out an ad in the _Daily Prophet. She stayed at the doors turning back any student who wanted to leave the Great Hall. Containment was their only hope now.

"Where are the boys from Purity House hiding?" Professor Sinistra asked.

"Oh, umm..." Jane hesitated for a moment. Surely Sinistra was safe, Severus had rechecked the adults and many of the upper grade students the morning for signs of conversion by the Dark Lord. Only Ryan was questionable. "They're in the classroom with the lights out, sitting on the floor," she replied. "Minerva will gather them at the last possible moment, unless something's changed?"

"She's tied up at the moment, so I have no clue what's going on. That 'Noble One' won't take no for an answer," Sinistra huffed. "I need to go check on preparations, if you'll excuse me?"

She stood aside, allowing the professor to leave the hall, and looked over to where Minerva McGonagall was arguing with the man who had pushed his way into the room before she could stop him. The girls sitting with Minerva looked terrified of the man. If he was trying to pick one for his bride, he'd cut the deadline way too close. She waved Cho over to watch the door and moved closer until she could hear Minerva.

"I think you're lying, not all of them can already be chosen!" he said.

"It's not our fault that you waited so long!" Minerva replied, folding her arms, and giving him a very hostile look.

"Watch your tongue, woman!" the member of the Faithful snapped. "Snape won't always be around to protect you."

"Alistair!" Pederson called from across the room. "You're interrupting my class. If you'd care to wait for me in the prayer hall, I'll bring you a girl before the ceremony."

Jane felt sickened to hear the students spoken of as if they were commodities for sale. The man seemed to weigh the offer; meanwhile McGonagall turned her back on him and started lecturing her charges in a loud tone. "At that point you will want to spread out the absorbent cloths on the floor around your feet, and observe the gush of childwater fluids, looking for brownish or bloodied discharge... Don't be concerned about the pain, after the initial two and a half hours of pushing, your extremities begin to feel somewhat numb. Next, move into your cat pose, tilting the pelvis down while arching your back up. With the next contraction, try to push as little as possible until the head scrapes past the bone and through the birth canal. The birthing helper will be kneeling behind you applying gentle pressure on the head to keep it from coming out too fast. Don't be alarmed as the bloody fluids quickly soak through the pads and coat the floor...." She stopped, and looked behind her to verify that the suddenly very pale man was heading for the door at an accelerated pace.

Minerva turned back to the horrified girls, some clutching their abdomens, eyes wide. "Forget everything I just said...."

Jane chuckled and returned to the door, dismissing Cho Chang.

"Nice hickey, Granger."

The low voice at her ear behind her made her jump, hand flying to her neck. Turning, she saw Draco smirking. "Don't you have someone else to annoy?" she shot back, still covering the patch of skin under her right ear that Severus had found so fascinating last night.

"You'd be pleased, I'd suspect, to know that he formally claimed you as his bride to the Dark Lord. Good work; I didn't think you could pull it off," he admitted seriously. "If this whole thing goes tits up, he can claim he was infiltrating the committee. Our Lord called him the 'most faithful' of all his worshipers."

"When was this?" she asked, puzzled. She didn't remember him leaving his bed until they both awoke at 4:00 AM for the committee meeting.

"Midnight. I didn't want you to worry, so I let you sleep," Snape answered, coming up behind Draco, a hint of annoyance in his tone at the boy's tale-carrying.

"Draco, make yourself useful and watch the doors," Snape commanded. To Jane he said, "I want you away from here for a little while; things may become violent." His tone was serious.

"What do you want me to do?"

He leaned in closer. "Take off all your clothes and wait for me in our bed."

"Done that already," she said cheerfully, causing Draco to complain in a loud whisper. "My ears! Arrrgggh!"

"Oh, go play with your wives," Hermione replied, still surprised by (her husband's?) Severus's sudden playfulness during this tense situation.

"Wives?" Severus questioned.

"I'm a Malfoy."

Snape rolled his eyes.

"If we fail, I can think of it as a Patil sandwich," Draco shot back, waiting for a reaction.

She didn't keep him waiting. "Disgusting, Malfoy. Grow up."

As she turned to leave the hall, Severus's hand was on her shoulder, stopping her. "It's time," he said. "We won't be able to wait; make sure they know to keep up."

"But what if they're not able to?" she asked.

"We can't wait, _for anyone_. Someone has betrayed us, and I don't know if our earlier departure has been compromised. _Be careful_," he cautioned.

Not caring that Draco was lapping up every word between them like a dog at a desert oasis, she reached out to caress her husband's cheek. "I love you."

"I know."

oo000oo oo000oo oo000oo

It was a simple task to tickle the pear in the third floor portrait and descend the long stone stairs into the castle's subterranean kitchens. Time was running out. She knew that Severus had left her mission to bring out the lower grades until the absolute last moment. She would have very little time to rouse Sprout and the children and have them coming down the side staircase from the third floor to the East entrance hall where this nightmare began. Surprisingly, they moved more quickly than she had hoped. Once Jane had awoken Pomona, the two of them had every child awake, dressed, and silently heading for the third floor in under ten minutes. "I don't know if I can trust Snape, Jane," Pomona confided in a low voice. "What if this is some sort of trick?"

"Have faith in Snape. I'll be right back, keep going!" she whispered to Pomona Sprout and made sure they were descending the staircase before she veered off, running for the lower dungeons, chiding herself the entire way. _How could I have been so stupid?_ she moaned. The one possession she would risk her freedom for was still ensconced under her mattress. Over these past months, only writing in her journal had kept her sane, helped her cope with carrying out the charade. She had to hope that she could make it to Snape's rooms and back in time to leave with the group. She had no illusions that they would wait for her. Once the pre-dawn sky came, they had to go.

Still counting down the seconds in her head, she burst through the door and yanked the journal from its hiding place, pivoted and was running back out into the corridor, praying for just a few more minutes.

As she rounded the turning into the main hallway a hand reached out and grabbed onto her robes, causing the material to constrict around her throat.

"Where are you going in such a hurry, Jane?" Sinistra asked, baring her teeth and breathing heavily with the effort to keep the girl off balance.

"Let go of me! We need to run, they're going now!" Jane hissed.

"Are they? I think Our Lord will have something to say about that. If your cousin isn't put to death for your actions, he'll probably kill you himself. Ungrateful girl!"

Jane could hear the madness in her voice. In panic, she clawed at the older woman, trying to twist out of her grip. Her robe clasp tore from the fabric and she was free! With a gasp of relief, Jane ran, still hugging her journal to her chest and leaving her grey outer robes clutched in Sinistra's hands.

"Stop her!" Sinistra cried out, and a figure stepped into her path.

"Quite still!" barked Danvers, training his wand on her. Triumphantly, Sinistra caught up to Jane and slapped her across the face, making her ears ring. Before anyone could react, a tall shadow detached itself from the inky pools along the corridor and Sinistra's hateful words were cut off mid-curse as a black sleeve appeared across her neck.

"I wondered why you were avoiding me in the hall... and now I know," Snape's words carried fury.

"You _are_ in on it! You filthy traitor! You dirty-blooded bas—" Her head jerked to the side and with a horrible sound of cracking bones, her lifeless body slumped to the floor.

"What are you doing?" Danvers said, aghast as Snape's face emerged from the shadows where Sinistra had just stood.

Because of the darkness and his black robes, all they could see clearly was the pale face and hands. His wand was trained on Danvers now.

"Make a choice, Edward," Snape said with soft menace in his voice. "Either you fight me, and lose, or you come with us. There is no time left."

She watched in relief as Danvers immediately lowered his wand. "I have no quarrel with you, Severus. You saved my life when the others left me out there to die."

Snape visibly relaxed, also lowering his wand and reaching out to pull Jane behind him. "Come with us," he repeated. "You have nothing here; everything we fought for, believed in is gone, perverted by a madman." As he spoke, Snape started to move toward the main hallway again, Jane held tightly at his side and Danvers trotting a few steps behind.

"I can't go out there again... those _things_... I can't face that again," Danvers wheezed, now running to keep up with them as they jogged left toward the East entrance hall.

"What's left for you here?" Snape tried one last time to reason with him.

"My honour," Danvers replied. "I hope you make it, Severus. Send help if you can."

Without answering, they ran through the open East door and into the greyness outside.

"They're only a few minutes ahead of us, Hermione, I need you to run as fast as you can," he heard Snape say to his companion, before pulling her to him for a brief kiss. "Now, go!"

Danvers stood watching for a moment until their forms were swallowed in the pre-dawn mist. He never saw either of them again.

oo000oo oo000oo oo000oo

From the _London Resistance Weekly_, 15 December

**Miracle Escape from Hogwarts**

_Scouts from the newly formed Scottish Resistance Brigade were stunned this morning to find a large group of wizards and witches walking out of the Occupied Territory. Led by former Hogwarts Headmaster Severus Snape and Deputy Head Minerva McGonagall, approximately eighty-five students, staff and former residents of the fallen magical village of Hogsmeade escaped from You-Know-Who and his followers. _

_Pomona Sprout, former Herbology professor, personally marshalled sixteen surviving children from the first through third-year classes in attendance when the war broke out. _

_One of the Heroes of the March, Draco Malfoy, stated that the main reason for the risky mass breakout was a new spell being forced upon them by He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, which would force the prisoners to enter into a magical bonding. Children as young as thirteen were under threat of death if they did not accept betrothal to older followers. Luckily, this reporter has been able to confirm that the prisoners escaped before such magical compulsions were placed upon them by staging a daring pre-dawn exodus and making their way out of the Inferius- and Dementor-infested areas using the skills of a very few who were resistant to the dampening effect of the mist used so effectively by You-Know-Who._

(Story continued on page 3)

**Snape Cleared of Dumbledore's Murder**

_In a related story, the reformed Wizengamot has dismissed all pending charges against former Hogwarts Headmaster Severus Snape in the death of former Wizengamot member, Hogwarts Headmaster and High Mugwamp, Albus Dumbledore, based upon the testimony of witnesses McGonagall and Malfoy. _

_Snape declined the offer to be interviewed, expressing instead the desire to start a search to find information on the whereabouts of his wife's Muggle parents, currently believed to be in Australia. _

(Continued on page 2)

A/N: I originally wrote a short fluff piece that would have been at home in a cheesy Hallmark greeting card. I erased it and started again. I owed Elizabeth/Servantofall36 better than that, something from my heart and soul. This is the result and I hope you enjoyed it.


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